


Ends & Means (aka the cheese-smuggling fic)

by tiny_increments



Category: The Expanse (TV), The Expanse Series - James S. A. Corey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25922515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_increments/pseuds/tiny_increments
Summary: James Holden has always been a guy with a cause. After deciding to leave the search for the protomolecule in someone else’s hands, he’s hoping this one won’t get (as many) people killed.
Relationships: Amos Burton & Jim Holden & Alex Kamal & Naomi Nagata, Jim Holden/Naomi Nagata
Comments: 16
Kudos: 19





	Ends & Means (aka the cheese-smuggling fic)

**Author's Note:**

> Story inspired by redditor “victorianfolly” who had a dream that the Roci crew, so moved after their family dinner convo with Miller, started a large-scale, intragalactic cheese smuggling ring. (Right?!) Also drew inspiration from my quarantine viewings of The Wire and Ozark, so buckle up, kids, we’re going to some weird places.
> 
> Title taken from the Aldous Huxley book, _Ends and Means (an Enquiry Into the Nature of Ideals and Into the Methods Employed for Their Realization)_.

“Anton and Tamara befriended this dairy collective a few towns over. Really nice people. Amazing cheese. They’re struggling with production a bit, though. So we decided to lease some of the land to their cows for grazing over the summer.” There was a beat as Elise seemed to look right at him through the terminal screen. “Yes, Jim. It’s summer. I know you have access to an Earth calendar somehow, so don’t even give me that excuse about missing birthdays anymore … ”

“Give him a break, _aga_ , he’s been a little busy!” Jim couldn’t see Father Dimitri on the screen but recognized the man’s nasal voice that still held a tinge of Balkan accent.

“Oh right, Dima, our boy’s been tilting at windmills again. How could I forget,” Elise jokingly rolled her eyes and smiled. Jim’s heart ached that he couldn’t reach through the screen and hug her. “I love you, Jimmy. Stay safe.” She blew a kiss through the screen then handed the terminal off to his other parents to say their goodbyes, too. A chorus of love from the eight people who brought him to life.

He crawled into bed with Naomi and laid on his back, one arm tucked under his pillow, his other around her shoulders, tracing lazy circles on her skin.

Naomi called for the lights to dim and snuggled into Jim’s chest. It was maybe a minute before he heard her soft snores.

Jim stared up at the ceiling, sleep still far away from him. He was always a bit unsettled after calls with his family. He missed them terribly.

It’d been … four years since he’d been to Earth? Damn. He was a shitty son, wasn’t he?

Nostalgia tugged at his heart, wishing he could be closer to the parents who had given so much to him. To actually touch them and feel their presence. To exchange the sterile, confined quarters of a ship with the open sky and tall trees of Holden Farm. To eat real meat cooked on an open flame and vegetables grown in soil with real sun, not from a lab with UV lamps — or worse, squeezed out of a tube.

He knew this wasn’t what his parents dreamed for him. It wasn’t even what he thought he’d become. But he alone had made every choice over the past 16 years that led him to this place, in space, on a stolen ( _salvaged_ ) Martian gunship, with plenty of time to think about if he’d made the right ones.

Because what if he hadn’t?

What if he’d kept up the land rights fight his parents had spearheaded instead of losing hope?

What if he hadn’t enlisted in the UN Navy out of disillusionment and spite for them?

What if he’d just followed orders and fired on that Belter ship ...

If he hadn’t been discharged.

If he’d stayed on the farm rather than wasting his savings hopping from brothel to brothel through the Belt before crashing on Ceres and signing up to be an ice hauler.

If he hadn’t logged that fucking distress call and brought Naomi and Alex and Amos and Shed (poor Shed) into all this mess.

Well, if he’d made different choices, he probably wouldn’t have a body full of cancer, for one thing. And he wouldn’t have the _Roci_ or have Naomi in his bed.

If he followed his parents’ dreams, he’d probably be married on Earth and have a couple kids and maybe a dog, and — most significantly — he’d be on the sidelines of history, watching and cheering on the good guys instead of being one in the middle of everything.

But he’d have betrayed something of himself along the way, right?

And then he got uncomfortable thinking that he was some kind of hero. He was a farm boy from Montana, not Jesus Christ.

Jim reached for his hand terminal. Maybe scrolling the feeds would turn off his brain for a while and help him drift off.

Fred Johnson had put him on a few messaging lists since the _Rocinante_ was technically registered to Tycho as a contract-vessel. There were a few “Crew Wanted” posts and a few announcements from corporate, but the majority were from companies looking to fill jobs, as Jim expected. He paged through a few, just to get a sense of what was out there. His last five years had been all ice — surely there was more interesting cargo to haul around the system.

Once they got back to Tycho and dropped Miller off, the _Roci_ would need to get working. She was a beauty, but her maintenance costs were high, and they’d need the money.

As he scrolled, Jim noticed the same string of numbers and letters in the job IDs of a few posts. All different jobs and clients, from what he could tell, and they all came in via a separate distro list.

_Huh, that’s weird._

He needed to confirm with Fred, first, so he forwarded one of the messages in question and added a simple note:

_This seems like my crew’s type of job, right?_

He hoped Fred would catch his meaning. The _Rocinante_ was a sneaky ship most of the time and loud when it needed to be. It could move things quietly and quickly. And it could defend itself pretty handily against bad actors. Lots of need for that as a war brewed in the system.

(Jim ignored his conscience telling him he started that war.)

A small chirp announced Fred’s response.

_Great to finally hear from you. I think it’d be a good job, if you’re willing to take it and follow through. Could open up a lot of opportunities if done right. We need to talk when you’re back._

Jim considered a response but rested the hand terminal on his belly instead.

“Jimmy …” Naomi mumbled against him, talking in her sleep. He smiled and felt the twitch of an erection beginning. She’d never called him that before, and he was surprised how much he liked that name falling from her lips.

“Cheese and cows …” She spat the words like a curse and kicked her leg. Jim struggled not to laugh too hard to wake her. Insomnia sucked, but he loved being privy to these moments.

He kissed the top of her head and rubbed the shell of her ear and she settled back into a calm sleep.

His mind went back to dinner and Miller talking about busting that cheese smuggling ring. No offense to the cop, but Jim tended to side with the smugglers on that one. There was some sort of justice in letting ordinary citizens enjoy a bit of luxury, wasn’t there? A little Robin Hooding to even the scales. Because what was the alternative? Lining the pockets (or stomachs) of government honchos and lawless private security?

“Fuck that,” Jim whispered under his breath in righteous indignation.

His conversation with Mother Elise tugged at the back of his mind, too.

He could have an in with supply.

But he’d need help with distribution.

He’d need to talk to Amos in the morning.

***

“You need to tell me if I’m off my rocker here.”

They were in the _Roci_ ’s workshop, Jim nursing his coffee in the corner to avoid getting in his big mechanic’s way as the man reorganized shelves and tools to his liking.

“Think that ship’s sailed, Cap. But what’s up?”

“I want the _Roci_ to start doing stealth transport. No drugs or anything like that, just … other things that would be better kept under the radar. For whatever reason.”

Amos paused, large crate in his arms, to think about Jim’s words. A smile crept across his face as the dots started connecting.

“Like cheese.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of medical supplies or refugees or —”

“Cut the bull crap.” Amos started unpacking the crate he was carrying, which turned out to be full of guns. “This is gonna end up about cheese, ain’t it?”

Jim pushed off the wall, a bit defeated that Amos caught on so quickly but not entirely surprised. “Maybe … eventually. My parents mentioned this dairy collective they’re working with and then the story from Miller, it got my gears turning. Why shouldn’t there be free commerce in the system? Why shouldn’t we be able to get goods from Earth or Mars without an obscene markup? Why does everything nice get immediately routed to Titan or military outposts and scraps are all that’s left for the Belt?”

Amos raised an eyebrow and Jim knew he should save the philosophical argument for getting Alex and Naomi on board.

“The _Roci_ ’s built for this work. But we need to start small. Get a few discreet shipments from Tycho off of Fred’s hands, start building our network and learn the ropes while we have the cover.”

“Yeah, I get that.” The mechanic resecured a shelf and leaned across the table from Jim. “You’ve thought a lot about this already?”

“I couldn’t sleep last night.” Jim let the silence linger as he took a sip of coffee. “Alex is the best pilot this side of the galaxy, so we’re good there. Naomi can cook the books and make sure we have what we need to seem legit. Fred’s already got us in with a few starter jobs, we just need to say yes. My biggest concern is what we do after him. You know anyone back home that could help?”

“Like Ceres? Sure, I know people on the docks. Could start lining up some distribution networks.”

“I meant Earth.”

Amos froze. His eyes darkened and his jaw set and Jim tensed, worried he’d crossed a line. They’d traded stories about Earth before — Jim didn’t think Amos’s origin was supposed to be that much of a secret.

“Sorry, I just thought … you’d mentioned … you were in this life before, right?” Neither man moved, tension reverberating through the room.

Amos finally took a rag out of his coveralls and started wiping down the table, despite the metal surface gleaming under the fluorescent lights. “Something like that,” he said.

“We can just start from scratch, then. No problem. Forget I even mentioned it. It was a shot in the dark, anyways.” Jim was backpedaling hard. He _needed_ Amos, with or without his connections, if they were going to make this work. Jim needed to be behind the scenes. Besides being a terrible liar, he’d broadcast his face across the system after the _Cant_ disaster.

_Another dumb decision to add to the logs._

“Give me 30 days.”

“30 days? For what?”

“Jim,” Amos walked over and clapped a hand on his captain’s shoulder, “Things got … messy for me before I left. It was 20 years ago. You gotta give me some time to see if I got anything viable down there.”

Jim patted Amos’s hand on his shoulder, holding him there, letting the air between them fill with anticipation and excitement and nerves and other feelings Jim couldn’t quite place.

“But you’re in?”

The mechanic gave Jim’s shoulder a squeeze.

“I’ll do what I can, Cap.”

**Author's Note:**

> Am I a fool for posting this without even starting chapter 2? Perhaps. But in the words of Seth Godin, you gotta ship it.
> 
> The term _aga_ is my made-up shortening of the Greek _agapiménos_ , meaning “sweetheart.” Someone who speaks Greek, please let me know if my usage is off!
> 
> I’m on tumblr as tiny-increments, if that’s your thing, too.


End file.
